


Resolution

by Ematu



Series: Dragon Age One-Shots [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Challenge Response, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4253613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ematu/pseuds/Ematu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor is having a hard time dealing with the aftermath from Adamant Fortress when Cullen pulls her aside after a War Council.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resolution

"Inquisitor, do you have a moment?"

Josephine and Leliana each gave her a look with little knowing smiles as they exited the War Room. She smiled shyly, bowing her head. Yes, everyone knew by now, but she was still not sure about how she felt about that. She had not had much time for boys when she’d been First, and she wasn’t quite sure how to handle all the attention towards her and Cullen. Heck, she was still learning how to have a relationship with him.

"Yes, Commander?" She walked slowly back to the table, watching her Commander as she did so. He hadn't moved and he looked a little uncertain. Her lips turned down a touch at the edges, her brow furrowing as she tried to think of what could have happened that could make him nervous and couldn’t come up with anything.

"We received a raven from Crem. The Chargers have destroyed Adamant Fortress."

"Oh." She looked at the map on the War Table, looking at the marker for the Chargers, feeling suddenly hollow inside.

"They also found a cache of Grey Wardens’ paraphernalia." His voice was gentle. "They could bring it back, if you like."

She opened her mouth to answer him, then closed it again, thinking. Reaching out, she picked up the marker for the Chargers and pulled it close, turning it over and over slowly, trying her best not to let the sensations of guilt and sorrow show on her face. So much had gone wrong at Adamant Fortress. A wrongness she could still see in the haunted eyes of her friends. Choices that still woke her in the night, soaked in sweat. She put the marker down again and looked up at Cullen, and nodded.

"Please tell them that I will come to pick it up myself." She wanted to see what was left of the Fortress. She remembered little of it, having been so focused on Magister Erimond, Warden-Commander Clarel and fighting her way through the small army of enslaved Wardens that had succumbed to Erimond’s influence.

"Inquisitor ... " She heard the concern and worry in his voice and she gave him a bolstering smile, her feelings for him warming the edges of the emptiness inside her.

"Not alone. I'll bring ... someone with me." She knew as soon as she said the words though, that she wouldn’t.

"Very well, then." His voice was gentle, but orderly as he stuffed the message from the Chargers into his stack of papers. "Should I speak with Master Dennet?"

"No, thank you though, Cullen." She lifted her chin slightly, pushed her disquieting feelings away, and looked him in the eyes for the first time in this little meeting, "I'll talk to him. I appreciate your help, though." She gave him a small, comforting smile and felt a twinge of guilt as he relaxed a bit and smiled a little at her.

"If there is anything you need, please, do not hesitate to let me know." He walked around the table, picked up her hand as he bowed slightly, lifting it and pressing his lips against the backs of her hand gently. He straightened, gave her one of the lopsided smirks that sent warm shivers down her back, and headed back to his tower.

She stared at the map for a few more minutes. She was making this up as she went along. She lifted her left hand, contemplated the glowing green mark. They had believed in her ever since she had closed that first rift. She wondered what she would had chosen if she had known when she woke up in irons. Josephine’s charming laughter drifted into the room. Cullen had left the door open when he left. Leliana said something and chuckled. She smiled to herself. How could she choose any differently? She turned and headed down to the kitchens to request some travel supplies.

A fortnight later, she and her Forder stood still, overlooking the Western Approach. They had just left the oasis, washed, watered and ready for the treacherous sands ahead. She shaded her eyes from the sun, and smiled to herself. Most of her friends hated it here, and they had valid reasons, but she loved it. The heat that baked her to the bone, the forever changing expanse of shimmering tan sand dunes, dotted by the rare bit of green that marked an oasis, all under crystal blue skies.

"You’ve been taking sneaking lessons from Leliana, I see." A warm voice chuckled and she turned quickly to see Cullen walking towards her, leading a Forder of his own. "I’ve been waiting for you."

"I stopped at Lake Celestine. Lost track of the time." She smiled, happy to see him, forgetting for the moment that she had slipped out of Skyhold without a proper escort.

"So I see." His smile faded and he stopped in front of her, just out of reach. “You left Skyhold alone.”

“Oh.” She ducked her head. After a moment of strained silence, she gave him a sidelong glance. He was just standing there, his arms crossed, giving her the same look he gives his recalcitrant soldiers. Guilt slid through her gut, he’d been worried, they had all probably worried, and on top of Adamant … she swallowed and promptly shut that train of thought down. Then she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She was the Inquisitor, after all, and she’d not been useless in fights. She met his eyes, almost flinching again at the steel in his eyes.

“You had all of us worried, Inquisitor.” His tone was warmer than she expected, but it was still a chastisement. She looked at him, head tilted slightly to one side, lips pursed as she thought, contemplating how much to tell him. She took a deep breath, held it for a few counts, then let it out again.

“I’m sorry, Cu… Commander. I,” she paused, thinking about what she was going to say, “It was irresponsible of me to leave without letting anyone know where I was going and for how long.” She turned her attention back to the desert in front of them. “I need to do this.”

“I know.” She felt his hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him and she had to close her eyes to shut out the warmth in his golden eyes. She reached up, laying her hand gently over his.

“ _Ir abalas_.” she said softly.

“We should leave soon, or it will be dark before we reach Adamant.” She looked up at the gentleness of his tone, saw him smiling down at her and she returned the smile, grateful. That he didn’t press her, that he seemed to understand without her saying the words, she wasn’t sure why. Maybe she was just grateful for him.

“Aye. _Garas_. Let’s go.” She let his hand slide off of her as she turned to her Forder and mounted, waiting for him to do the same. When he was settled, she clicked her tongue and urged her horse out into to the shifting sands.

The sun was barely passed the center of the sky when they reached the ruins of Adamant Fortress. Crem had left word that they would be at Grey Wing Keep, with the cache of Grey Warden objects, so they were alone in the desolate wreck. She wandered through what was left, Cullen behind her, but following his own path through. They had become separated but they were both too lost in their own thoughts to notice.

She didn’t pay attention to where she was going, there had been a staircase or two. A quick flash of reflection caught her eye, pulling her out of her thoughts. Curious, she leaned in closer, her fingers brushed away debris until she pulled free a tin plate, identical to any other plate in any household, inn or even Skyhold’s own kitchen and tavern. A plate, used by the Grey Wardens who had been stationed here, to train, to protect the world from any threat of Blight. Grey Wardens who had been heroes to so many throughout the lands of Thedas. Race didn’t matter to the Grey Wardens, and each race idolized their own. Heroes who had sworn to protect the people, no matter the cost. Heroes who had made a mistake. She had killed so many of them.

By the time Cullen found her, she had no more tears. He gently helped her up from where she knelt among the rubble and guided her back out. It was dark out, the moon reflecting off the sand as if it were water. Neither of them said a word as he helped her into her saddle and took her reins, leading her to Griffon Wing Keep. She let him take the lead when they reached the Keep, feeling as small and overwhelmed as she had in Haven, waking up to find a hole in the sky and the Divine’s death laid at her feet. She barely felt the warmth of his cloak around her as they followed Knight-Captain Rylen to the rooms he’d set aside for them. Guilt, doubt and fear were there every time she looked at the plate, but she couldn’t seem to let go.

With the Chargers for company, they left the next morning, trekking across the sands on their way home. After a day of travel, after they had left the tan bleakness of the desert behind them, she felt more alert, more awake.  She helped with the camp chores, kept watch when it was her turn. The purloined plate tucked deep in her packs, wrapped carefully. She was very aware of it, but as the group bantered about, she found it easier to tuck away the feelings it inspired, wrapping them up carefully.

They were camped on Lake Celestine, it had been drizzling all day and the night didn’t seem to be much drier. She sat in a tree as she watched over the sleeping crew. She’d forgotten how comfortable trees could be. A movement next to her left caused her to tense and she looked over to see Cullen looking at her, a bemused look on his rather bedraggled face. The branch wasn’t high off the ground and she found herself at eye level with him and the only thing she could see was liquid gold eyes.

“Comfortable?”

“Quite. You should try it sometime.” She smiled at him, relaxing back into the comfort of the branch and trunk.

“Hm. Is there room for the two of us, do you think?” She watched him eye the branch.

“Probably not.”

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. Cullen leaned against the branch, close to her feet.

“Are you ok?” He asked, after awhile. She could hear the concern underneath the casualness of the question. They hadn’t talked since Adamant. He’d been giving her space, she knew. She didn’t answer him right away, glancing at the sleeping camp before she did.

“I’m scared, Cullen. So many are depending on us … on me.” Her voice trailed off as she drew her knees up close to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She rested her forehead on her knees, muffling her words. “What if I fail?”

He turned to face her, touching her lightly on the calf when she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“If you fail … if _we_ fail … it won’t be because we didn’t try.” He assured her quietly. “That you _are_ trying is what gives the rest of us hope. That you have made it this far keeps us going. We want to try harder to help _you_. You have done so much already, Inquisitor.” The warmth in his voice turned her title into an endearment. “You are not alone, though I am sure it must feel as if you are sometimes.” He gave her calf a gentle squeeze. “What happened at Adamant?”

“The Grey Wardens. Everyone believed in them, and now they are almost gone. They were trying to do their job, Cullen, but they were so afraid that they would fail.” _Just as I am afraid I will fail._  She couldn’t say those words out loud. “I killed them.” She looked up at him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

Cullen moved to stand beside her, wrapping her in his arms and she let him, hiding her face in his chest.

“Oh, _ma’arlath_ , Corypheaus killed them, not you. They each chose to follow Clarel and Erimond. That choice killed them, not you. Not us. Please, look at all the good you have accomplished. We are uniting Thedas. Slowly, but it is happening. You have mages and templars working together instead of killing each other. No one else has been able to do that, _da'vhenan_. Not the Divine, not either of her Hands. It was you.” He pulled her closer. She couldn’t see his face, dark and shadowed as they were, but she let the tenderness in his voice, the belief he had in her fill the hollowness that had been with her since the War Table. “A good commander never forgets those that he kills, or that die under his protection. It is their memories that keep him trying to always be better.”

“How do you sleep at night?” The words were out before she could stop them, but instead of him pulling away from her, she felt his chest rumble with a rueful chuckle as his arms tightened slightly.

“Who says I sleep?”

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, feeling herself blush, remembering how many times Josephine, Leliana and she had teased him about not sleeping.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. And I thank you for the compliment.” She heard his grin and she smiled. “Keep the plate, _ma’arlath_ ,” he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Keep it as a reminder of what we have lost. Keep it as a promise of what you can do.” He was a good Commander and she was glad he was her Commander. “Now, why don’t you go to sleep? Your watch is over.”

She slid from the branch, and looked past him at the camp.

“Cullen?”

“Yes?”

She hesitated, not quite sure what she wanted to say.

“Can I sleep next to you?” She saw the flash of white in the darkness as he smiled.

“Of course. Here.” He sat down, his back propped against the tree. She sat next to him, curling into his side. He draped one arm around her, blanketing her in the warmth of his cloak and him.

After a few moments of silence, she whispered, “Cullen?”

“Yes, Inquisitor?” She only heard the endearment, not the title or the responsibility.

“Thank you.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is in response to a mystery speed writing challenge for the Facebook Group - The Fellowship of the Cullenites Writers. For this particular challenge I had to write a story that had Cullen, a plate, and the color tan. I've only done one playthrough so far, and my Quizzie is a bit like me, pretty self-contained. She would feel bound to be strong for everyone because they are depending on her, and there's not a whole lot of time (I feel like), for her to adjust. Events at Adamant Fortress hit me hard. I tried to think strategically and I felt like a heel. Then Varric's reaction about killed me. I almost reloaded and tried it again, but I forged on (I'll do better next time, I swear!). I purposefully did not describe the Inquisitor here so that the reader can imagine their Inquisitor. So except for the few elvish phrases, which he could pick up from someone who's hung around Solas, it is pretty generic. Plus, it is fun to be fancy and hide sappy endearments in foreign languages so you can say what you want to without passerbys catching on.  
> \-------------------------------  
> Elvish:  
> Ir abalas = I'm sorry  
> Garas = Come  
> ma’arlath = My love  
> da'vhenan = Little heart


End file.
